


cut and restart

by adreamaloud, daneorange (adreamaloud)



Category: Rookie Blue
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-22
Updated: 2013-10-22
Packaged: 2017-12-30 04:33:33
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,026
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1014134
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/adreamaloud/pseuds/adreamaloud, https://archiveofourown.org/users/adreamaloud/pseuds/daneorange
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>people have histories, that's a given. holly stewart and ghosts of girlfriends past.</p>
            </blockquote>





	cut and restart

**Author's Note:**

> gail x holly, holly x ofc (i know, I promise to be very brief about this). all errors are mine.

_i am done with my graceless heart -florence and the machine, shake it out_

 

People have histories; that's a given.

As someone who spends hours working backwards -- rebuilding scenarios from lifeless bodies, reconstructing narratives from bones -- Holly knows sooner or later they'd have to talk about it; Holly wants to do this right, at some point, but then again, not like this – in the middle of a mid-shift grocery run on a day like today – with _Gail._

The most unfortunate part is that Holly _doesn't_ see her coming – Holly runs into her, quite literally, as she turns the corner into the cereal aisle, corner of a box digging into her forearm.

_Ow._ The pain stuns her and she takes a step back before looking up, and then— _Shit._

Holly wishes it were someone more manageable -- say, that girl from 8th grade whose name she doesn't even remember anymore; someone from far too long ago for _feelings._

Holly knows: Three years isn't exactly _far too long ago_ for feelings.

*

It’s been a while, but Holly remembers that night: How she had had no sleep at all, and how, when she first saw her, it felt a lot like a jolt of caffeine right through her bloodstream. She’d always been fond of that story, all that heartbreak notwithstanding. Meg liked keeping her on her toes – she was everywhere all at once, and just when Holly thought she couldn’t keep up with her, Meg kissed her first.

It was this blur of years: Holly doesn’t remember sleeping much – it was the work load, it was all those late nights spent drinking, it was the sex, it was the fighting.

It was tiring, and at some point, Holly realized, it also wasn’t working.

*

Not that it could have worked – Holly knew from the start she was not what Meg was looking for, though Holly had always been careful about the blame. It had always been an in-between, anyhow – at the time, Holly had just come back from her fellowship, only to find herself newly single in an old city. Not the best Holly to begin with, but then again, Meg kissed her _first_.

*

The Meg here now – older, that much Holly can see, and somewhat… _calmer_. The first things Holly checked were her eyes – _What am I looking for, exactly?_ Holly asks herself before blinking and looking away. Meg feels a lot less like the girl with that temper Holly once knew. _Have you finally shed it?_ Holly wants to ask. _If yes, when and where and for whom?_

Clearing her throat, Meg breaks the impasse with, “Fancy running into you here, Dr Stewart.”

“You too, Dr Howard.”

“Howard- _Jones_ ,” says Meg quietly, and Holly feels the room dim a little, the edges of Meg glowing. Meg slips a card into Holly’s hand. “We have a lot of catching up to do.”

Holly barely manages her raised brow. _Isn’t this what old people do? Move on and get better and eventually close out circles?_ “Sure,” she just says, walking past her.

_Maybe._

*

Holly finds Gail right where she left her – in front of the freezers, staring at the ice cream on the shelves. “You’ve been here ten minutes,” she teases, dropping the box of cereal into the cart.

“I thought it’s your turn to choose the flavor,” Gail says without looking. It’s not exactly routine—just a fairly regular thing that Holly prefers not to overanalyze. So Gail prefers to stay the night on Wednesdays because she has Thursdays off – so what? It doesn’t have to be anything – or at least, nothing they couldn’t manage at the moment.

“Holly.”

Holly blinks and shivers, suddenly aware that this area’s extra cold. “Yeah,” she says, reaching in for the first tub – a variant with cookies and brownies and marshmallows that she’s too distracted to actually scrutinize – before heading to the counter with the cart.

Gail falls in step beside her, quiet even as Holly expects her to say _something,_ at some point. These days, being around Gail has been nothing but easy. Some days, it makes her wonder – _Holly, stop._

They part ways at the station, and the way Gail says, “I’ll see you tonight,” hits Holly as both assurance and threat. She remembers Meg, and thinks: _Sooner or later, right?_

*

“Not to kill this high or anything,” is how Gail begins that conversation. They’re huddled closely on Holly’s couch, eating ice cream out of the same tub, knees touching. Gail is warm to the touch, but the way she says it sends a chill across Holly just the same.

“But?” Holly prods, trying to keep the caution out of her voice. She’d hoped to get her script straight by the time this moment arrived, but truth be told, right now she’s just _nervous._

“You’ve been weird since the grocery stop earlier,” she says, and Holly lets out a long breath. She sees how Gail tries to keep her face straight, and how Gail fails in the end, though in Holly’s opinion Gail’s pout is actually pretty adorable. _Focus, Stewart,_ she chides herself, looking away.

“We tell each other things, right?” Holly says after a pause, taking off her glasses and leaning over to the table to put it down. Gail nods, putting the ice cream tub on the table in kind and shuffling closer, like she’s prepping for a really long story. When Holly shifts her eyes, Gail’s looking straight at her, her face so _open._

_What to do with you now?_ Holly asks herself, worrying her lip.

“If you don’t start talking,” says Gail, the mock-threat in her voice softened by a smile and a tender nudge at Holly’s shoulder. “I’m going to have to start asking questions.”

Holly feels a nervous laugh leave her chest. It’s hard to be around Gail when she’s like this – when she’s simply flushing Holly with too much _feeling_ it literally makes breathing difficult, to a degree. “Not that I would resist your interrogation, Officer Peck,” she manages eventually.

Gail sighs, pressing harder into Holly’s shoulder with her fingertips. “Come on, _Holly,_ ” she says softly.

Holly shivers and leans in, just a bit -- _just so I can see Gail more clearly without my glasses on,_ she tells herself. But even this close, Gail is still just this pleasant blur. Some days, she thinks, this is how she needs to see her; some days, Holly sees Gail so _clearly_ that it hurts, like a blade’s fine edge.  

Holly closes her eyes. “There was a girl,” she begins. “You know how this goes, no?” 

After a while, Gail breaks the silence with, “No.” And then, “Tell me.”

Holly lets out a breath she doesn’t even catch herself holding.

*

Fits and starts, is how it goes; Holly cuts herself at some points and restarts elsewhere, and Gail follows her patiently along, just looking at her. There’s a quiet about her that almost frustrates Holly – _shouldn’t this be a noisier affair with you_ is what she wants to know, but then again, she’s so lost in old pages and Gail looks like she’s really trying.

At certain points, Gail interrupts her and asks things. Questions like, _So do you want to see her again?_ And things that begin with, _If she’d told you she was getting married._ Holly tries her best not to flinch.

“Well, I saw her this morning,” Holly answers. “At the grocery store. Which is why I got weird.” And then, “I’m sorry. It’s supposed to be—”

“Nothing’s _supposed_ to be,” Gail just says. “Also, that doesn’t answer my question: Do you want to see her again?”

The question flusters Holly, and it throws her, really, how something as _dated_ as this could still fluster her; she’s waiting for the shade of disappointment that usually accompanies a pause like this, but it doesn’t come. Gail looks at her steadily, and Holly swallows hard. “Not really,” she says finally.

“Do you wish you’d known she was getting married?”

“We were together a considerable time,” says Holly, careful about the words. “Can I be honest?” Gail shrugs, rearranging herself on the couch like she’s saying, _We got all night._ “Honestly, I expected an invite.”

“Ah,” says Gail, smiling. “All those tips you could have gotten from all those coats,” she teases. That Gail could afford this light moment at this point of the conversation surprises Holly, ultimately.

“Wouldn’t have been as fun without you as plus one,” Holly says. “Would you have come? I mean, if I asked.”

Gail doesn’t even blink. “The drinks are free, right?”

_Oh Gail._ Holly finds herself laughing, the weight on her chest dissolving slowly. “That your M.O.? Go to a wedding, storm the bar, leave happy?”

“Well, basically,” says Gail, nudging Holly’s shin with her toe. “I suppose you’re going to need lots, and it’s no fun getting wasted alone.”

“You mean to suggest it is fun getting wasted with you,” Holly says. Just like that, they’re in a familiar space again, and for a moment she could forget how heavy this had been, once.

“I don’t remember having received complaints about _that_ one time…”

“Oh please,” cuts Holly, pressing against Gail’s knee with an open palm. “I was _so_ sober that night.”

And it surprises Holly, how of all the things she’s said, it is this that gives Gail some pause. _Is Gail actually blushing?_ Holly wonders, studying the way Gail’s face breaks into an awkward smile. “So you were,” Gail just says.

“That night could have ended differently, you know.”

“Like--we could have used your earnings to empty some convenience store’s shelves of all their brandy or something, no?”

“More or less,” Holly agrees. She still wonders how _that_ conversation turned this way, but it’s not like she’s complaining. “Or maybe _half_ a shelf.”

“Not bad for a Macarena-dancing, wine-bottle-stealing coat girl,” Gail just says, scooting closer, her hand warm on Holly’s leg.

*

It goes until morning, fluctuating between heavy and light. Holly sits across Gail on the couch with her legs crossed and her hands open, palms up, on her knees. Gail leans back on the couch’s other arm, never taking her eyes off Holly’s face, taking all of this in – _Isn’t this what it’s about?_ Holly asks herself at the end of it. _You find someone and fill her in, like an empty carafe._

It’s been a while since she last felt this _open_ , and it feels like she’s handing Gail a key. _Here, have this_. _Break in anytime you want._ At the back of her head, she knows something has tipped; the balance of things has inevitably shifted.

“Why are you telling me all this?” Gail asks at the end of it. Holly knows better than to feel slighted; it’s just what Gail says when she’s left with no words.

“It’s just – all of it, they’re just _stories_ ,” Holly says, shrugging. Now that it’s all out, it feels truer than ever before – just a story now, all of that. Real, once, but not anymore.  

Gail pushes herself off her end of the couch, closing the gap between them, threading her fingers into Holly’s hands, which were still resting limply upon her knees. “Just stories,” Gail repeats. Her hands are warm, and her grip, tight.

“Stories I wanted you to know, that’s all.” There’s a certain ease now to the way Holly is able to say this; like all the weight is gone. Gail pushes up on her knees, leans closer and kisses her, and Holly feels herself melting into it, the uncertainties falling away.

*

The kiss goes on for what feels like hours. “In case you didn’t get the hint -- this is where you stop talking,” Gail says, resting her forehead against hers, afterwards. “Or make up a new story, whatever your preference.”

Holly laughs at that, resting her hands lightly on Gail’s shoulders. It’s ridiculous, how she’s _so_ into this girl; right now, she has no words.

“Spin me something new,” Gail continues. “Something happy.”

Holly leans back in for a quick kiss before: “Oh, I got one. It has _elephants_.”

“I like this new story already,” Gail just says, laughing softly along. #


End file.
